


Cotton Tail Bond

by Wolfsbride



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond's newest assignment throws him for a loop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton Tail Bond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



M eyed Bond over the rim of her wine glass. Her agent had been quiet during their dinner, his usual loquacious conversation lacking. With anyone else she would have called it nerves from having dinner in the home of the head of MI6 but she knew that Bond was in and out of her flat so many times, with or without her permission, that she’d been tempted to give him his own key. 

She’d actually mentioned it on one occasion, only to have the cheeky bastard tell her that he preferred the challenge of circumventing her security and guards. No. It wasn’t the location or company that had silenced Bond’s tongue. It was the assignment that loomed before him. M tipped the glass to take a final sip of wine, letting the motion hide her smile. 

Soon they finished dinner, and M stood, glad that she’d had the forethought to pick dinner up on her way home as the only dishes to be washed were the cutlery and the wine glasses. “Go along through to the guest bathroom, 007. I’ll clean up here and meet you in the living room.”

M watched as Bond mumbled something under his breath and sidled away, looking very much like he was going to a firing squad. The minute she was sure she was alone, her lips curved into a very wicked grin. She took her time, even though there was minimal work to do. Timing was everything after all. It never hurt to let people stew. Finally, she deemed enough time had passed and dried her hands on a dish cloth before leaving the kitchen for the living room.

Bond was standing stiffly in the middle of her living room, just in front of her fireplace. She spared a moment to lament the fact that there was no fire going; she was sure the firelight would set off Bond’s skin tone wonderfully. Despite this, the view was magnificent. 

He was stripped bare, except for a loin cloth – she’d managed to find an appropriate amount of very soft suede – a blond colored headband with a set of bunny ears attached and – “Turn around, 007.” Bond hesitated a moment, sighed heavily and then turned slowly. M pressed her lips together to contain her grin. There fastened to Bond’s very delectable arse, was a cotton puff bunny tail. 

“And front again, please.” Bond turned again and M hummed thoughtfully as if she was making the most important of decisions. “A little less cloth and a little more loin, I should think.”

Bond’s eyes widened. “Ma’am, is _this_ ” – here he tugged on the bottom of the loin cloth to no avail. It still barely covered him and his bum was getting cold – “really necessary?”

M tsked. “You know as well as I do, that Baron Van Der Hoof has specific tastes.” Moving around behind Bond, M smoothed a hand over the swell of his rear, smiling when Bond flinched under her palm. She calculated that she could shorten the suede by at least another inch before nothing was left to the imagination. 

“Yes, I’ve read the file. I just don’t see why I can’t chat him up while I’m wearing more clothes. Or any clothes, for that matter.”

Patting Bond’s rump fondly, M moved to face her agent again. Crossing her arms over her ample bosom, she raised a brow. “You could try that yes. But blondes in tight pants are a dime a dozen. We need him focused on you and you alone. That’s why you’re going undercover as a waiter and not a patron.”

M tilted her head. “Are you saying you’re not the right man for the job, _James_?” Her voice purred and she was pleased to note a corresponding twitch in the loin cloth. She and Bond locked gazes for a minute, but then Bond looked away. “As you wish, ma’am.”

“Good boy. Now go get changed and then give me ten minutes or so. I need to make an adjustment to your outfit.”

Bond grumbled and trudged back to the guest bathroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was after two am before Bond was able to escape Baron Van Der Hoof’s penthouse flat. He was dressed in regular clothes, loin cloth carefully folded and tucked away in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. All he wanted was to go home, get into a hot shower and scrub himself raw. 

He was trained in the seduction of both men and women, of course; all MI6 agents were. However, he was more inclined toward women and his few male conquests had always been on his terms. After tonight, he had a much greater empathy for his female coworkers. Losing that control had been unnerving.

He was sure his arse was black and blue from being slapped, pinched and generally manhandled. Van Der Hoof had taken a liking to him and had delighted in assessing the goods. Bond had been tempted to leave him with broken fingers in addition to the drugged cocktail that had loosened his tongue.

Waving down a cab, he gave the address for M’s flat. He would hand the tape over to M and hopefully get away without too much trouble. He really needed to wash the Baron’s scent from his body. As the cab drove along the deserted streets, Bond pressed his forehead against the cold glass of the window as he leaned against the door.

When the cab arrived at its destination, Bond paid the driver, and then remained outside for a moment. With a sigh, he marshaled his energy and entered M’s flat the way he normally did, by breaking in. He was just coming down the hallway from the foyer, when the light in the living room snapped on. M was waiting for him; sitting casually on the sofa as if she normally entertained guests at three am in her nightgown.

She rose and went to meet him, reaching up to take his chin in her hand. She stared at him for a few minutes and whatever she saw seemed to soften her expression. “Go take a shower. You have ten minutes. And not too hot, James.” 

Shoulders slumping, Bond turned away to go do as she’d asked. He knew if he wasn’t out in the allotted time, she would come in and get him. He wanted to claw at his skin but it wasn’t worth it to fight her. He wasn’t quite all the way out of the living room when she called after him.

“Wear your outfit, James.”

He tensed but kept moving. They both knew he would obey.

While Bond went to the guest bathroom, M headed to her bathroom and brought out the bath towel she had there. Then she went to her bedroom and collected the lube from her night table. While most would accuse her of fraternizing with her agent, she considered herself the keeper of Bond’s mental and physical health. He was useless to her if he was damaged beyond repair and she knew well from experience that sometimes good touches were the only thing that could replace the bad.

She had just placed the lube on the small table next to the sofa when Bond entered the room again. He had left off the bunny ears but donned the loin cloth as she asked and he walked slowly to stand in front of her. As she had expected, he’d only made a cursory attempt at drying himself. She imagined he’d spend most of his time rubbing at his skin under the water.

Lifting the towel, she began to dab the drops of water from his shoulders and chest. As she dried each spot, she kissed it, replacing the chilled dampness with the warmth of her tongue. She felt him shiver and forced herself not to smile. When she started to bend, Bond reached for her.

“M, you don’t need to…”

M shushed him and resting a hand on his hip braced herself as she stooped at his feet running the towel up and down his legs before doing the same with her tongue at a much slower and through pace. By the time she was finished, she was very much satisfied with the tent the loin cloth was sporting. Steadying herself again, she got to her feet and shifted around to his back. She repeated the procedure, interspersing her kisses with little nips to Bond’s shoulder blades. When she crouched to dry the backs of his legs, she gave into the urge and leaning closer, gave Bond’s plump right buttock a sharp nip.

Bond yelped in surprise then groaned.

Chuckling, M breathed over the reddened mark and then sucked her way down the back of Bond’s thigh. When she was finished, she could feel the fine tremors running through his body. M paused to admire Bond's backside and then amused herself by flicking the cottontail. Her fingers smacked against Bond's bum but she was sure the feeling was negligible. She made it to her feet with a little difficulty and then stepped around Bond’s right side so that she was in front of him once more.

She was glad to see he seemed a little more like himself than when he had first arrived and she threw the towel over his head and proceeded to move back to the sofa. Sitting down, she gazed up at Bond. He was standing with the towel pressed to his face. She could tell he was inhaling deeply and she knew he was getting her scent mixed with his off the material. Her pussy tingled and then throbbed when she stared at the bulge in the loin cloth. “Hurry up, James.”

Bond jumped and then quickly rubbed at his short hair before tossing the towel aside. He crossed the short distance to where M was sitting. She spread her knees and he stepped forward between them without any prompting. Smiling up at him, she reached out and slipped her hand under the tiny flap of fabric covering Bond’s groin. 

Keeping her movements slow and steady, she stroked back and forth, rubbing her thumb over the head of Bond’s prick. She knew the suede would not hurt him as it was soft and smooth, but it would add a sensation that was totally different from satin or silk. Bond whined, hunched into her grip, trying to speed things along. M stopped and squeezed him tightly. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Bond gasped. 

M waited a moment, and then started moving her hand again. She gave him a few seconds to adjust and then said softly. “Report.”

Bond gasped and then began to talk. The words spilled from his mouth like water. Struggling to focus on what he was saying kept him from falling over the brink. He gave her an overview of his evening; the details she would be able to glean from the tape he’d made. 

M moved her hand faster and Bond’s speech sputtered to a halt as his hips snapped back and forth. Lifting her other hand, she cupped his balls, feeling how they tightened as Bond got closer and closer to his peak. At the crucial point, she squeezed both hands and Bond keened and rose up on his toes as his muscles strained. Keeping her grip firm, M called Bond’s name. 

“James? James!”

Bond slumped forward, panting hard. “Yes, ma’am?” He rasped.

“James, dear. I need you not to come. I’m going to let go now and I know you’re close, but can you do that for me?”

Bond shuddered and then with a shaking hand, wrapped his fingers over M’s. She slipped her right hand from under his and let go of his balls with her left. Swearing, Bond gripped himself harshly. “M. Oh Christ. M.”

“Shh. Shh. Just a moment.” M hiked her nightgown up around her hips as she reached for the tube of lube. She fumbled with the lid, and then squirted a dollop over her fingers before letting the tube fall to the floor. Holding Bond’s gaze, she reached between her thighs and holding herself open with one hand, she speared herself with two fingers from the other. She and Bond moaned at the same time and her back arched thrusting her breasts out towards Bond. 

“Fuck.” Bond fell to his knees, hand still clamped tight around his cock. “Fuck. M. Please.”

M whimpered and twisted her fingers rapidly. “Just… Just another moment.”

Bond stared at where M’s fingers were moving in and out of her body and felt his balls clench. With a cry, he grabbed at M’s leg, pulling her down off the sofa slightly. He fumbled with the loin cloth, shoving the fabric out of the way and then thrust home. 

“Olivia!”

“James!”

There was no pause for adjusting, just James plunging in and out of M’s pussy, fingers digging into her hips as he held her still. Denied the ability to ride James’ cock, M tugged at her nipples, rolling them beneath the slippery silk of her night gown.

James’ hips jerked forward and back half a dozen times before he was coming with guttural wail. His climax trigged M’s and she bucked beneath him, pussy clenching around him. M sagged into the sofa and Bond slumped over her, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

It was several minutes before they were able to move again. They separated slowly, dragging themselves to sit upright. When their breathing finally calmed, Bond stood, swaying a bit before helping M to her feet. She shimmied so that her night dress fell covering her fully. Grimacing, Bond removed the scrap of cloth and belt. 

M touched his arm. “Alright, James?”

Bond ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

She patted his arm. “Come along then. Let’s go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a weird brain. It grabs random information and just sort of spits stuff out. Most of the time these hiccups don't get to see the light of day, but Persiflage is a big enabler and she was all write it! So... Yeah... I wrote it. I was expecting this to be a funny little story. But Bond and M had different ideas.


End file.
